Work Text:
Geum Seongje was in turmoil.
Not in that kind of gut-wrenching, blood splattering from the lungs, organ-shutting-down kind of pain that you’d typically associate with someone of his hot-headed nature, but the kind that lingers longer than they should. The ones that require almost regularly scheduled monitoring because if you didn’t, it would probably have spawned into a nasty infection. A parasite under that thick-layered skull that just wouldn’t come out unless you dug really deep, through all the deflections and poorly executed lies that he couldn’t be bothered to refine because that would just mean he cared.
And yet, he still managed to conceal it from everyone.
Because why would anyone ever expect something to be wrong to him of all people? After what is seemingly the millionth fight, he should’ve been used to it by now. All the physical injuries, the verbal insults, the mental games.
If anything, Seongje causes problems.
He attracts problems.
He is a problem.
Always has been, probably always will be.
And he loves it.
Craves it, even.
Hell, he tantalizes at the thought of the next beatdown.
It doesn’t even matter if he wins or loses—he just cares about the adrenaline rush and thrill ride that follows afterwards. Nothing can get Seongje going more than the satisfying crunch of bones under his fists or of the unnatural popping of sockets followed by the natural harmonic screams of useless pleads and pathetic agony. The metallic tinge of blood in the air floating in his aftermath always manages to send a final gratifying shiver down his spine.
To him, nothing can be more romantic than that.
That was, until you came along.
You, with your stupid moral compass. You, who wouldn’t leave him alone even with the ever-looming threat that he could beat you up into smithereens. You, who he wasn’t able to bring himself to ignore or incapacitate like all his other problems.
Seongje doesn’t even know why he didn’t. Why did he drag you to the convenience store when he could’ve just turned the other way? He could've probably got you off his ass if he just fought back a little more. Why did he even choose to walk you home? Why did he save your number on his phone? Why, in everloving fuck, did he ever send that first text? What's even more embarrassing was how he made sure you read it before immediately deleting it afterwards.
He just wants to ram his head into the nearest piece of drywall.
Fuck, it was all too annoying.
<><><><><><><>
You hated unresolved problems.
And to you, Geum Seongje was a walking contradiction. His evergrowing reputation dubbed him as someone maniacal, psychopathic, unhinged—a fucking lunatic who huffs adrenaline for his meals with no sense of self-preservation. But no matter how much you’ve pissed him off—and there were definitely a lot of times—he actually hasn’t acted on any of his threats. Whenever you thought you had him figured out, Seongje diverted every one of your expectations.
He was also in physical pain.
That surprisingly irks you.
Frankly, it’s bound to happen when you’re busy knocking out someone’s teeth everyday. You saw his hands back when you were both at the convenience store close to your house. His face quickly twisted into his usual masochistic grin when he caught you staring but you couldn’t help but shake the feeling that this was unnatural. His hands were laced with open wounds. Some already scabbed over from previous fights, others freshly made, as if he was showing them off like twisted badges of honour. But even his normal hedonistic behaviour seemed off. It was hard to pinpoint where, but it just was.
You wouldn’t say that you’re friends with Seongje. Hell, you could barely call each other acquaintances. Your relationship was more of familiarized strangers than anything. You didn’t owe him anything nor did he need to return you a favour.
But you liked him.
And that’s more than what he can say about most of his twisted relationships.
It wasn’t in the lovey-dovey school crush sort of way—although if you were totally honest, you wouldn’t be totally appalled by the idea—but somewhere along the way, he caught your attention. If you were totally honest, you actually liked how he had his own way of going about life—that he had his own principles that he wouldn’t budge on for anyone, only doing the things he wanted, on his own terms. If the world were to object, he’d push them back tenfold with a defiant grin on his face the whole way. An unstoppable force hurtling against anyone in his way.
Just like the addicted adrenaline junkie he is.
That’s why you were so awestruck when this wreck of a human being texted you to bring him medication. What would someone so solidified in his own character archetype ever want from someone like you? A man, who probably eats dirt for breakfast and spits on split cuts as disinfectant compared to you, who was so far detached from criminal life that you’d probably break out into hives even lying to your teachers that you've done your homework when you haven’t. It just wasn’t possible, no matter what way you try to look at it.
But he sent you that text.
So casually.
So effortlessly.
Like it was the most normal thing on earth.
And yeah, he may have deleted it afterwards, but what if that was just his way of texting? Nothing about him was normal, after all.
If he could engage with you, then why can’t you?
<><><><><><><>
Seongje doesn’t come to school often but when he does, he’s almost always guaranteed to be situated on the school rooftops. You weren’t worried about anyone finding out what you were doing when you began your ascent up those stairs to the rooftop. Say what you want but the man guards his turf like it was entrusted to him by the last of his kin. The area around the stairs has been devoid of students or faculty members after the last guy who entered through those doors left with a black eye and a note stapled to his arm with a series of threats to the next guy willing to step inside those doors.
You smell the waft of smoke before you fully push open the doors.
Seongje was leaning over the railing, surveying the incoming students with boredom etched deeply into his stone-cold face with a new lit-up cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers. A look of familiarity flashes before his eyes when he sees you approaching closer. He looks down to your figure. You were holding the ointment tube you had promised to hand him the last time you met. It was brand new, with the foil seal packaging still unopened. You actually had a tube that was about to run out at home and this was just the new one you bought just in case the last one ran out. You don’t know what force compelled you to grab this one, but something in your head told you that you had to, especially for Seongje.
“Here’s your delivery, right on time!” you proudly exclaim, pointing excitedly to the tube of ointment as if you were the host of some midnight game show. “I didn't really appreciate the lack of response as to where exactly you wanted us to meet but whatever, at least I found you.”
You study his face, noticing that he looks a bit different.
“And you finally got your glasses back,” you remark. “Very cool."
Seongje takes one last inhale of his cigarette before stubbing it out on a nearby tab of cement. You watch in anticipation as he crosses the rooftop, stopping when he’s an arm’s length away from you.
“Actually, shouldn’t you still be wearing that foot brace?”
You’re met with a blank stare before Seongje suddenly snatches the tube out of your outreached hands. You’re about to express offence at his lack of a proper thank you, but is forcibly shut up when he grabs you on the shoulders, swiftly turning you around. You sputter awkwardly when he drags you wordlessly towards the direction you came out from and pushes you through the heavy rooftop doors.
“Don't talk to me.”
You don’t get another word in before you are met with two metal doors and the sound that matches the click of a lock from the other side in your face. To say you were beyond confused was an understatement. You stand there, mouth agape, trying to process what just happened.
To be fair, you didn’t actually expect a grand gesture of appreciation or even an utterance of approval. You were totally fine with that. You get it—that’s just not who he is. But leaving you out like this? With nothing more than a push and a shitty dismissal?
Insane.
Preposterous.
Quite offending, actually.
With a huff, you begin your descent back down the stairs, heading towards your first class of the day. Half an hour early, no less. When you plant yourself at your assigned desk to idly scroll through your phone, you’ve already made up your mind.
You were going to make a friend out of Geum Seongje, whether he likes to or not.
<><><><><><><>
The next time you see him is in a shady alleyway next to the convenience store, lighting up another one of his cancer sticks. He turns the other way when he sees you through the corner of his eyes, as if you didn’t even exist.
Asshole.
Clutching your backpack straps in hand, you adamantly march in his direction. His eyebrows twitch in irritation when you plant yourself in front of him.
“Come with me.”
He immediately scowls, blowing a puff of smoke into the air that you automatically wave off with a crinkle of your nose.
Ever the sweetheart.
“Fuck no.”
“Please?”
You then bat your eyelashes, trying to imitate an inspiring impression of a Victorian era child asking for scraps.
“Didn't I tell you to stop talking to me?”
He inhales another puff of his cigarette, looking to you like you were just some annoying cockroach he couldn’t kill. You sigh, already have guessed that that was going to be his reaction. And with every good plan, there’s always an incentive. You pull out a beaten-up looking card from your pockets.
“What if I told you that I received a 50% off coupon for a bakery that’s just 10 minutes away by foot?” you wave it proudly in front of his face. “Would this change your mind?”
Seongje scoffs, rolling his eyes.
“Please?” you beg. “I don't wanna go alone.”
Seongje looks unamused. So deeply unamused that he flicks the rest of his cigarette on the pavement, beginning to walk away. Guess you still need to refine your acting skills. It's time to pull up your backup plan.
“A-And I’ll do your homework for a week!”
Seongje freezes. You scamper toward him quickly.
“Don't worry, I may look the part to you but I'm not stupid. I pass all my classes so you can rest assured that you’re in good hands,” you try to reassure him, slightly fumbling over your words.
Seongje meets you with an unreadable expression. A sudden tension settles in the air. The muting click clack sounds of your backpack charms tapping against each other is the only sound that fills the silence before he speaks.
“Why are you doing this?”
Your grin falters.
“…beeecause I think you’re cool?” you respond hesitantly.
Like it was just that easy.
But it never is, not to Seongje.
“You can’t be fucking serious.”
Your eyebrows furrow.
“I’m as serious as a diabetic heart attack,” you say, with newfound resolve in your voice. “Which is what you’re getting if you come with me.”
He says nothing, seemingly stunned by your sheer audacity, which spurs you on all the more.
“I promise that I'll reword everything and even mimic your writing to cover our tracks. Trust me, you’ll be in good hands,” you wiggle your fingers conspiratorially in front of his face. “I may not be at the top of my class, but I do know what I'm doing.”
Seongje blinks slowly, as if weighing the consequences in deep contemplation. His eyes hovered over your coupon until finally landing back on your determined gaze.
“Two weeks.”
“Huh?”
“Do my homework for two weeks.”
Your back straightens, suddenly more alert than ever.
“So you'll come?!” you ask excitedly. To an outsider, you probably look like a dog who’s just been handed a leftover bone from their owner…their very scary looking owner.
A corner of his lips tugs up.
“Yeah.”
You punch the air in victory.
“Hell yeah, brother!”
Seongje’s expression instantly drops.
“Don't call me that.”
“Pal?”
“No.”
“Buddy?”
Seongje grits his teeth in irritation.
“...my little sweetie pie?”
Silence. Before—
“What the fuck did you say to me?”
Uh oh.
“Nothing.”
He squints his eyes.
“That didn’t sound like a nothing to me.”
Well, he asked for it.
“My honeybunch? Sugarplum? Pumpkin pi—”
You jump in surprise when he clamps his hands over your mouth, the air suddenly leaving your lungs as he stares at you with unblinking eyes. It's actually a bit unnerving.
“One more and I’ll fucking end you.”
You gulp and nod hurriedly. You’ve had your fun. He unclamps his hands from your mouth and shoves them into his pockets noncommittally, roughly gesturing with his head for you to lead the way. You beam back in excitement.
Oh, this is gonna be wonderful.
<><><><><><><>
It was not wonderful.
Just like a child who had their iPad taken away for talking back, Seongje was complaining the whole way. You didn’t even know he could be this talkative. It was like someone had just flipped his switch from brooding asshole to super fucking annoying. If you didn’t know any better, you’d guess that he was doing this on purpose.
“I'm running out of cigarettes.” Good.
“Why is the sky so fucking blue?” No idea. Go back to class.
“My jaw hurts.” A grown ass man finally learns that actions have consequences.
“Why do you walk so weird?” Okay, now he’s just being mean.
But through sheer willpower, you made it through the walk. Thankfully, in one piece too.
You don’t think twice before you grab him and pull him through the door. The bells jingle above you as the smell of bread and strawberries fill the air. Your eyes close as you take it all in, inhaling the sweet fragrance.
When you open your eyes to ask what he wanted, you’re momentarily frozen when you realize that his eyes were already on yours.
“What?”
You’re met with a slow blink before he looks down to your intertwined hands.
“Oh.”
You let go immediately. You totally forgot that Seongje doesn’t exactly do well with physical touch (or human interactions in general).
“Sorry.”
You’re met with a grumble of acceptance as he turns his head away from you. What the hell? Where was the annoying dick from earlier and why are his ears turning red?
Whatever, you guess that he’s just built differently.
“So! What do you want?” You clap your hands together, trying to break the awkward silence that suddenly loomed over the both of you. You then point at the menu above the register when he stiffly turns around. “They got shortcakes, scones, cream puffs, and whatever your tiny little Grinch heart desires.”
He pushes his glasses up, briefly squinting a glance at the menu.
“Whatever.”
Your eyebrows furrow.
“What do you mean, whatever?”
He shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
“Not my thing.”
“Not your thing?!”
He stares at you in a deadpan expression. You huff.
“We're testing everything here until you find something you like.”
“Everything?”
You nod.
“You heard me right.”
“There’s gonna be more to this?”
“Oh hell yeah there is.”
You gaze at the assortments laid out under the counter, pondering as if you’re deciding your last meal. To be fair, it certainly feels like it. One wrong move and Seongje may spit in your face and decide to never come back again. Of course, he’s never done that but the thought still makes you shudder in anxiety.
In the end, you landed on every possible combination of taste you could think of, ranging all the way from bitter to sweet to sour. Even the pickiest kid would be jealous of your order. You really hope that all the money you saved up for this little expedition was enough to cover the cost, even with the coupon discount.
Strolling up to the bored cashier, you proudly hand over the coupon after you place your enormous order. You flash an excited grin to Seongje as the cashier rings everything up at the till. Then—
“This is expired.”
Your heart drops to your stomach.
“W-What do you mean?”
“Look,” they point to the tiny date at the corner of the coupon. “Expires Monday—"
“B-But today is Monday!” you cut them off.
“—of last week,” they finish off with a slow blink.
You feel like someone just dumped a bucket of cold water on you. What kind of sick joke is this? You don’t even dare turn to meet Seongje’s surely judging eyes. Guess you’ll have to miss out a few more meals. Gah, you were doing so well too. Just as you’re about to internally combust from shame, you hear a familiar thump beside you. You quickly whip around, expecting to see the cashier dangling by the cuff of their collar. Except this time, they weren’t. They were actually still on solid ground…and opening up the till.
“Keep the change,” Seongje says.
This was not how it was supposed to go. You were supposed to be treating him .
“Wait—” you begin.
“What drinks would you like?” the cashier cuts you off harshly.
You blink blankly.
“What?”
They sigh before explaining, “store policy dictates to give each customer a free drink for orders over $75. They’re all listed in the menu above.”
$75—
“Just give me water,” Seongje spits out. He then nudges you on the shoulder. “Hurry up.”
“Oh…coffee,” you mindlessly manage to say. This was all happening way too fast.
With a silent nod, the cashier hands over a buzzer, and begins to make your orders. He hands Seongje his water but signals to you that you will have to wait a bit for your coffee. You give a quick smile before awkwardly shuffling down to the nearest empty table. Other than the two of you, there was only another customer situated in the corner, who seemed too enthralled with his computer and just a little too jittery based on the mountain of coffee mugs around them. The poor guy seemed like he hadn't even slept in weeks.
Seongje mutters something that you couldn’t decipher. You turn your attention to him, confused.
“Sorry?”
“Caffeine’s bad for you,” he repeats, slightly irritated by the fact that you didn’t hear him the first time.
You blink. His cheeks begin to flush with colour at your unprecedented stillness.
“It’ll fuck up your brain.”
That was the point he was stuck on? Not the fact that he literally just spent the equivalent of two weeks of your allowance on straight up pastries?
You scoff in disbelief.
“You fight brutes up like it’s a fucking drug addiction and this is your line? This is the point where you stop, push your little nerd glasses up, and think to yourself, ‘hey, let’s not go there!’,” you point in the cashier’s direction. “Caffeine?”
Seongje’s nose flares in annoyance.
“Yes.”
You don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“You're literally the brand ambassador for popcorn lungs.”
“And you’ll be the ambassador of a broken sternum if you don’t learn to shut the fuck up,” he threatens, throwing daggers in your direction.
You give a disapproving glare back and fold your arms across your chest.
“I can't believe you even know what that is. Aren't you too busy and failing every single one of your classes?”
“I’m not stupid.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
You pause.
“—but you know you gotta repeat the grade if you miss enough classes, right?”
“That's bullshit,” Seongje fires back just as quickly. “They barely even take attendance anymore.”
He's not wrong. The school administration has basically started to turn a blind eye to everything after the union got involved. You guess even they don’t wanna meddle in illegal shit until they absolutely have to.
You click your tongue.
“Whatever, you still gotta come to class.”
“Fuck that boring shit. I'd rather smash a guy’s skull in.”
“For the sake of my sanity, I really hope you’re talking about some PC game.”
Slowly, Seongje then leans in, as if sharing a secret only between you two. You subconsciously move back in your chair. He flashes you a deviant smirk.
“Care to find out?”
Your nose crinkles in disgust.
“No thanks.”
Seongje shakes his head in feigned disapproval.
“Boo, you’re no fun.”
The sudden ring of the doorbell interrupts whatever counterargument you’re about to voice, the sounds of heels harshly clacking across the wooden floor resonating across the small cafe. You turn your attention to the source of the noise, noticing a woman wearing a white fur coat and red platform heels enters with her nose a little too high up in the air—funnily reminding you of a rat sniffing for its next slice of cheese. Her whole apparel looks more expensive than your entire house.
“I thought you were taking me to a high establishment. What is this?” she screeches behind her shoulder.
Behind her, a meek-looking man steps forward, looking as if he was an inch from breaking down. Comparatively, he looked more simple, dawning only a patterned cardigan and brown khaki pants. You decide that he was probably the nicer of the two.
“Baby, please. Can we get through this without fighting?” he takes out his wallet. “I'll get you whatever you want."
“Hrmph.”
The rat woman was clearly agitated but just slightly appeased with the promise of money. They both step towards the counter as she rapidly fires off her order to the poor cashier. You turn your attention back to Seongje, who now seems to take a sudden interest in the cafe’s newest additions.
The woman scans the place, seemingly looking for seats that are the furthest away from anyone else. When her beady eyes land on the two of you, however, the corner of her lips curl up into a sneer.
“Filthy,” she mutters before taking a seat in a corner booth. The man scampers to the seat in front of her, quietly mouthing a silent sorry in your direction.
It doesn’t take much, if anything, to get Seongje all hot and riled up. But this? This was the perfect bait to set off the man with an undiagnosed superiority complex.
Your blood goes cold when you hear a slow creek of a chair being dragged back on the floor.
Seongje stands up, cracking his knuckles. You reach out to tug harshly at the sleeves of his orange windbreaker, forcing him to look down with a glare.
“Please don't use your fists here,” you plead.
He rolls his tongue against his bottom lips, as if filing your words into his brain. He reminds you of a dog who’s been told to wait before they are allowed to eat.
“Sure.”
You warily let go after a moment’s hesitation.
Seongje reaches for his glass of water and takes a sip.
Before you can say more, he strolls casually towards the two’s table, still gripping the glass in his hands. Your eyes widen when a newfound realization dawns on you. Holy shit was he going to smash the glass into her head? That’s at best attempted manslaughter.
He was so going to be locked up.
The woman looks up when Seongje plants himself in front of her.
“Can I help you?” she asks, condescension dripping in every word.
That just seems to entertain Seongje even more. His lips curl up manically as he leans into their space.
Then, he pours the contents of his glass over her head.
For a second, it was like time had frozen—the silence so quiet that you can hear your own heart quickly beating harder against your ribcage. Water trickles down her fur coat, accumulating all the way down to her heels as she sputters, trying to catch her breath.
“Oops.”
The woman screeches, hurriedly standing up as the water begins to pool in her lap. She shoots an icy glare at Seongje—which didn’t exactly seem intimidating as he towered over her rather short stature.
“How dare you!” She points a long acrylic-nailed finger at Seongje. “How fucking dare you!”
A Cheshire grin sweeps across Seongje’s face.
She continues. “I will report you and sue you to high hell.”
“Who, me?” Seongje points to himself. “What are you talking about?”
The woman screeches again before turning her attention to the man at her table.
“Well? Aren’t you going to do anything?”
He diverts her gaze, choosing to stay silent. She clicks her tongue in annoyance before scanning the room.
Your eyes dart around, trying to avoid her gaze. If it weren’t for the current situation, you probably would have felt bad for disturbing the coffee man. But now? You’re fucking praying that he’s the chosen witness.
But then, Seongje shatters your dreams, doing the worst thing he could’ve possibly done.
He talks to you.
“Did you see anything?”
Shiiiiiit.
Your face drops as everyone's attention steers to you. You feel yourself crumbling under the weight of their gazes, especially from the fur-coated woman. She was so much worse than Seongje. At least with him, you couldn’t feel your self worth deteriorating with every passing second.
Fuck me and my stupid little baka life.
Seongje studies you with newfound enthralled interest—like he’s waiting for something. You feel at crossroads here. On one hand, you can cover for Seongje. On the other…you can barely lie to save your life.
It feels like you’re in hell.
You open your mouth just for something close to a gargled sound to come out.
“What? Speak up,” the woman shrills. “I don't have all day.”
You decide to turn your gaze to Seongje, silently pleading with him to get you out of this whole situation. Just say sorry and let’s leave.
You’re instead met with a silent stare. He was going to make you go through this alone. But why? Why did he need to drag you into this? You didn’t do anything wrong. You were just…here.
You can feel your brain shutting down.
What are you going to choose? Him or your own morals? Will you really lie just to cover his ass?
Then it clicks. This is just what he wanted to see. He’s testing you.
You clear your throat.
“No.”
“No, what?” Seongje asks, perking up.
“I-I didn’t see anything,” you respond with a quiver in your voice.
The woman’s face contorts in tense rage. You think you can see steam rising from the top of her head.
“You’re going to wish you never stepped a foot in here,” she threatens with straight resentment in her voice. She then turns to Seongje. “And you’re going to be thrown in jail alongside that little bitch behind y—”
Seongje’s expression immediately drops into stagnant silence, all the previous fun and whimsy gone from his voice.
“Don't call her that.”
The woman ignores him, continuing her monologue. Though, she does step back, also feeling an additional tension in the air.
“Or what? Are you trying to defend your little girlfriend?”
Oh no. Oh no no no no.
Seongje slowly balls up his fists, one foot sliding back. You can’t watch this. He was going to absolutely pummel this woman.
“I’ll drain you all of your worth,” she continues spewing. “And whatever y—”
A loud slap on a table interrupts the woman’s monologue. Seongje freezes an inch before his fists could come in contact. He slowly turns towards the source of the interruption.
“I can’t do this anymore,” the man at her table stands up. “You’re fucking crazy.”
That was all he said before leaving, the bell ringing the only sound behind him. The woman, in all her wet and soggy glory, narrows her eyes before hissing one last threat in Seongje’s direction.
“Don't think this is over.”
She ungracefully clops towards the exit, leaving wet heel trails in her wake. She sends a glare in your direction before she turns around, shutting the door with a loud bang in her wake.
The entire restaurant staff all coincidentally had their backs turned to the whole ordeal until they heard the ringing of the bell. A mousey-looking employee skirts from the backroom with cleaning supplies, soundlessly beginning to clean up the mess. They didn't even dare to make eye contact with Seongje, who had now walked back to your table.
“Y-You can’t just…do that!” You sputter out, distressed. He lazily sits down in the chair across you, splaying his arms over the back and kicks his foot up on the table.
“Deal with it,” he shoots you a smug smirk.
“You can’t just waterboard people you find annoying,” you retort, knocking his shoes back to the floor with your hand, which is met by an irritated click of his tongue.
“I didn’t use my fists.”
“You totally were.”
“Sure, but I didn't touch her.”
You suck in a deep breath.
“Don’t threaten others around me unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
He silently studies you for a second before replying, “that was absolutely necessary.”
“She was just…being a minor inconvenience. Seriously, you can’t just go around clobbering everyone who pisses you off.”
Seongje's eyebrows furrow.
“She called you a bitch.”
You blink, all pent up frustration leaving your body, instead being replaced with slight flattery.
“Were you really going to punch her for me?”
“Well, yeah,” he responds bluntly. “Why wouldn't I?”
Huh.
You sharply inhale.
“Okay, how about next time, I'll let you know if I need you to protect my honour or whatever.”
He sticks out his bottom lips, glowering.
“So…what? I'm just your trained dog? You tell me to go and I go bark and wag my tail?”
“Yeah, and I'll get you a collar too,” you deadpan. “I’ll make sure it brings out your eyes and engrave your name on it.”
He looks to the door, cursing you out from under his breath. You again see his ears start turning a dark shade of red. Before you can ask about his family’s genetics, the food buzzer finally starts beeping.
Wonderful timing.
“I’ll get it,” you solemnly declare, standing up.
When you reach the counter, you clasp your hands together and give a weak smile.
“Can we get this to go?”
<><><><><><><>
It's time to call it a day.
You internally cry out to the void. You’re never showing your face in that bakery again. Sure, maybe you weren’t handed a restraining order but you saw the apprehensive looks being exchanged between the employees after you picked up your order. Man, why can’t everything be all sunshines and rainbows and everything nice.
When you walked back to your table, Seongje had already wordlessly left the bakery, forcing you to trail after him. He hadn’t told you where he was going, but you take it as a good sign that he hasn’t told you to go away either.
You take a sip of your long awaited coffee, immediately gagging after swallowing the contents. Someone diluted this shit to the max.
You take a peek at Seongje from the corner of your eyes, who is failing to suppress a smug snicker.
Fucking asshole.
Your head perks up when you begin recognizing the surrounding streets. Turns out Seongje has quite a brain for navigating roads. At least, that’s what you’d like to believe. Something about the way he doesn’t even need to check the map on his phone makes you feel like he’s a little bit more familiar with your route than he probably should be.
He stops under the streetlamp by the corner of your home. A breeze flows between the gap between the two of you. You turn towards him when you realize he isn't leading the way anymore.
“What’s wrong?” you ask, stepping closer.
He exhales.
“My head hurts.”
You sigh.
“This is why you gotta stop fighting,” you place the bag of pastries along with your cup of coffee on the ground, shrugging off your backpack. “Let me see if I have any pain reliever pills in my bag. I think I have a bott—”
“No, like it really hurts.”
Your hands freeze in the midst of fiddling around your bag’s front pockets.
“Wait.”
You push yourself off the ground. Seongje’s pupils dilate as you suddenly grab the back of his neck. His hands shoot out from his pockets as he stabilizes the two of you on the wall behind you. Your hands run up to hold his cheeks as your eyes analyze his head cautiously. “When was the last time you fought? Did someone deck you in the hea—”
You shut up as you finally register how much distance is between the two of you. Or rather, the lack of space. A palpable tension begins settling in the pits of your stomach.
“I lied.”
Your eyes whirl back to meet his.
“Isn't this quite romantic?” he smirks, a glint behind his glasses.
You quickly look away, admiring the singular piece of weed that grew out of the nearby sidewalk crack. It just suddenly looked very interesting.
“Someone really needs to take care of that,” you observe, voice slightly pitchier than usual.
If someone had told you that the Geum Seongje were to be holding you under his own volition, you would have laughed in their face. Actually, scratch that, you would be fearing for your life.
“Maybe I should go take care of tha—” you try to duck under his arms, which only spurs him to quickly slide his arms down. “Wait—”
“I hurt people for fun,” Seongje interrupts you, his tone suddenly changing to something cold. stone cold.
Just like the one back in the bakery.
You stop moving.
His eyes glaze over, replaying all the fights he’s dominated over the years—all the brutality and bloodshed he’s simultaneously witnessed from the sidelines and caused just because he wanted to.
“And I like doing it.”
A pause.
“Okay? Isn't that common knowledge?”
“Okay?” he repeats, eyebrows slightly knitted together. "Didn't you hear what I said?”
“What about it?” you lay your hands over your chest, channeling the best rendition of a motivational speaker as you can. “Be who you are, Seongje.”
“Be fucking serious,” he barks out sternly.
“What do you mean?”
“This?” He points between the two of you. “Is incompatible.”
You didn’t know how to respond to that. Compared to Seongje, you knew you weren’t exactly…audacious.
“I’m not a good person,” he continues. “Do you understand that?”
You’re confused.
“I never said you were,” you start. “I know you’re not a good person.”
“Glad that you’re finally getting the mess—”
“But I think that you’re a better person than you say you are.”
His face falls, mouth agape while he tries to find the right words.
“Which makes it all the more valuable that you’re choosing to spend time with me. So…thanks.”
He blinks.
“For…you know, hanging out,” you clarify with an awkward chuckle. “Was it lame of me to admit that?”
Seongje sharply inhales.
“What are you talking about?”
“Well, I’d say that walking a random stranger home is pretty neat. And so is buying her a week’s worth of food.” You begin to list off, grinning. “And while it was done in a pretty bad way, you totally stood up for me today.”
“So yeah, I think you’re pretty cool,” you finish off.
You’re both silent for a while, but it’s not as awkward as it used to seem. Something else that you’ve figured out about Seongje? He doesn’t go quiet to make the atmosphere tense—he’s just thinking. And you just need to give him time to process everything.
“What makes you so sure that I won't hurt you next?” he asks sharply.
“Well…I'm not.”
His eyes harden under those glasses at your response.
“But you haven't with me since…well…”
His jaw clenches.
“...ever.”
And it’s true.
He hasn’t.
Your eyes narrow when you meet his gaze.
“Why is that?”
You’re met with nothing but silence and the sound of breathing between the both of you.
“Why haven’t you…” you trail off when you see his hand drop to his side out of your right peripheral vision. You drop his gaze as you glance hastily to the right.
There it was. An escape.
You look back towards Seongje, who just stares emotionlessly back.
This was like his way of saying here’s your chance to leave. To just step away from him without any lingering worry or fear of what he may do because he’s letting you go this time. You really should take the opportunity.
…
But you still haven’t found your answer.
“Why haven’t you hit me yet?”
Something shifts behind his eyes as he closes in on your space. His hands drop to your shoulders, tightening with every passing second. Any more pressure and you’re sure to see a hand-imprinted blossoming bruise the next day. They always said to just take the beating instead of getting any more hurt than you have to. Here it comes. One flex and your clavicle is bound to at least crack. You squeeze your eyes shut and hold your breath for the awaited pain to hit you all at once.
“I don’t know.”
You crack one eye open.
“I don’t know,” he admits again.
Because the truth is? He really didn’t know. He knew should’ve pushed you away the moment you offered to help. He should’ve locked those staircase doors the moment he realized he fucked up with that shitty text of his. He should’ve gone home when you came begging for his accompaniment to that bakery that he has absolutely no business in. He should’ve left you alone.
But he’s selfish.
And impulsive.
And a fucking lunatic.
“Hey, Geum Seongje.”
You hear a quick intake of constricted breath. Slowly, you raise your arms, as if cooing a cornered animal from aggression, reach around his neck and pull him in. He freezes in your grasp as you pat down a flyaway hair on his head.
“It's alright.”
You’re met with nothing more than the sounds of your breathing in unison yet again. You lean back to stare into his eyes.
One.
Two.
Three.
You flash an actual smile this time. A real, sincere smile. With no hint of mockery or teasing. He’s still frozen in your grasp, mouth opening and closing with no sounds coming out, much like a goldfish thrown on dry land.
“I still think you’re cool.”
This shouldn’t be happening. And yet, it is.
You let out a small chuckle.
“But I didn’t chalk you up for a sexist.”
He quickly pushes you back, hands automatically moving back into his pockets as stares at you with wide eyes.
“What?”
“You’ve literally hit everyone else who even dares to breathe in your direction.”
His eyes twitch.
“I'm not a sexist. I've hit tons of girls.”
You whistle, mockingly impressed.
“Name one.”
“I don’t remember names.”
“What do they look like?”
“I don’t remember faces.”
“You have to remember one .”
He studies you up and down.
“Well, I think I have the next one right in front of me.”
You snort.
“Sounds like someone’s a hypocrite.”
He sucks in a breath, trying to mask up an amused laugh.
“You know, you’re making it really hard for me to enjoy this date.”
…
Your smile drops.
Now what does he mean by— “DATE?!?”
He slowly nods as the corner of his lips turn up.
“B-But, you can’t just do that!” you sputter, heat rising to your face. “When have we ever established—”
“Ah,” he tilts his head. “So you don’t have any feelings for me?”
You blink frantically, tongue tied. Heat rises up to your cheeks.
“N-Now wait a minute! W-What kind of question is tha—”
“There you go, problem solved.”
“Hold o—”
“Go home.”
No fucking way. Absolutely no fucking way.
“Listen here, asshole,” you begin to argue. “You can’t just—MMHN!”
Suddenly, a pastry is shoved into your mouth and a takeout bag is dropped into your hands. You stand there motionless, absentmindedly beginning to chew, while trying to voice your frustrations (rather unsuccessfully).
“Enjoy.”
Seongje leans down to take the leftover coffee from the ground.
“And stop drinking this. Seriously, just go to sleep earlier.”
Then he just…leaves. Just like that. While you’re standing there, gawking at his retreating figure with crumbs and frosting all over your lips like an idiot.
A stupid, flustered, babbling idiot.
This feels like déjà vu.
You hear a buzz from your pocket and with your mind racing a million miles a minute. You reach into it to pick up your phone. A message opens up when you unlock it with a slight tremble in your fingers.
[SEONGJE]: i’ll drop my homework off on your desk
You groan.
Then, another buzz.
[SEONGJE]: see you tomorrow…honeycakes.